How to Swim
by maexswim
Summary: Emma Louise Prescott was a normal college student until she got the call that changed her life. Left alone in the world of the undead, she needs to learn how to swim in order to avoid sinking. Shane Walsh x OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any piece of The Walking Dead franchise. If I did, I would be eating sandwiches with Norman Reedus, not writing fan fiction. The character of Emma Louise Prescott is one hundred percent mine, as she was created by me after watching too many episodes of The Walking Dead.**

* * *

_July_

One night in the middle of April I received a phone call from my father. It was nearing two in the morning but I was still awake and working on my thesis, fighting sleep and inhaling coffee and Starburst like they were air and I was short of breath.

"Emma," he said in a serious tone. "Emma, it's time."

Quickly I told him I would be there soon and hung up the phone. I gathered my most important belongings―my laptop, a photo of myself and Matt at the carnival last Fall, my autographed copy of _The Glass Castle_―and grabbed the packed duffle bag I always kept waiting in my closet. As an RA I got the privilege of having my own dorm room but the closet was still too small and normal size things rarely fit in it, let alone a bulging bright pink duffle bag filled to its brim with clothes and food. I swiped my keys from the table next to my bed and took one last look around. I knew it would be the last time I ever looked at the room and the last time I would ever be at the University I'd called my home for the last four years. I wanted to savor the moment, but with another call from my dad coming through I also knew I had to leave and fast.

The world as I knew it was about to end.

-x-

"Daddy?" I called into my dimly lit childhood home. "Mama? Where are you guys?"

"Emma!" my mom said happily, rushing to me to wrap me in her arms tightly the way she did whenever I'd leave for school. "Daddy is still at the lab but he'll be home soon. He needs us to get the generators and their silencers ready to go. You remember how to do that, right?"

I nodded. "I can't believe it's really happening," I told her while we speed walked to the basement. "All those years I thought Daddy was crazy. He's not crazy, Mama. The highways are already beginning to pack and it hasn't even been four hours, yet."

"Don't tell me those things!" Mama whispered harshly. "Your father still needs to be able to make it home. You know he's coming from Benning."

"I'm sorry, Mama." I averted my eyes and looked to the ground. "You know sometimes my mouth moves faster than my mind."

We moved mounds of boxes and rearranged furniture in order to reveal three solar-powered generators, each equipped with their own silencer. Daddy bought the silencers a few years ago after someone at the lab told him it would be a better investment than soundproofing the house. Mama handed me a bright orange extension cord and I plugged it into the socket that tied to the solar panels up on the roof. With the dark green cord attached to the orange one, I connected the silencers to the generators.

"We'll turn them on when the power goes out. It's useless to do it now," Mama concluded. She stood with pursed lips and looked around the basement. "Do you think we have enough?" she asked me, no doubt regretting not buying more when she had the chance. Mama was like that―always thinking about things from the past. I learned to love her for it.

"There's more than enough, Mama," my eyes scanned the large underground room nearly filled to its brim with food. "You and Daddy have been waiting for this. Preparing. We're going to be fine."

"Oh, Emma," she hugged me again. "Sometimes I don't know what I did so right that God chose to give me you. All those babies up in Heaven and I got the best one."

"Mama, stop it. You know I hate that."

I have never been able to be comfortable when receiving compliments. When I was seven and a girl in my class told me she liked my shoes, I kicked her. When I was sixteen and that same girl, Beth, took every chance she could to mention how "cute" my haircut was, I went home one day and chopped it all off. But I can't do anything about Mama's compliments. Mama's compliments cut down to my core, the innermost of who I am. I'm not about to change who I am over a silly compliment.

"Go on upstairs, now," I told her with a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to make sure everything is organized the way Daddy likes it. Lord knows he'll have a fit if it isn't."

She did as I asked and mentioned something about making tomato soup for dinner. I was too enthralled with the massive stock pile in front of me to listen to her. Mama and Daddy had been building it for years ever since he first learned of the biological weapon set to take out the terrorists in the Middle East. Daddy got a hunch that something would go wrong and when Daddy got hunches, he was usually right. Since then, on every trip to the store they would pick up a little more than they needed for the week and eventually started making trips for the stock pile alone. It had everything: canned goods, dry goods, meat dated and frozen that could last up to two years. And water. Gallons and gallons of water along with at least thirty cases of bottled twenty four packs. If that wasn't enough, the house was also on its own well system that Daddy had installed on his own. Our water came from the stream that ran about a mile from our back porch and was one hundred percent purified thanks to Daddy's knowledge of chemicals.

Our backyard housed a garage, cow house, and chicken coop. All three had been soundproofed last winter by Daddy. I swear you could stand right next to the cow house and not hear a single "moo" until the door was opened. The cow house held six cows: three for milking, three for meat if things went bad. The chicken coop was for eggs and every day meat. Daddy said the things reproduce enough that it doesn't matter how many we eat. The garage held its own survival necessities: two cars with full gas tanks (revved twice a month to make sure they were still in tip-top shape), twenty gas containers filled to their breaking points, and "go bags" for each of us. The "go bags" included knife sets, a change of clothes, a first aid kit, and walkie talkies so we could stay connected incase of separation. It's better to have an emergency plan, Daddy once told me, than to lose your family with silly mistakes. There was also a vegetable garden near the porch.

I thought Daddy was nuts when he first told me he was going to do all this to our home. I was seventeen, almost eighteen, and getting ready to graduate high school. I didn't have a plan for college because Daddy wasn't going to let me go. He said he "couldn't risk" me going. Being twenty five and still working on a Master's degree is embarrassing but it took me a whole year to convince him that I'd be okay in Alabama. The University had been my dream school since I first learned about it as a sophomore. I wanted to be an actress and it had an incredible theatre program. When I went to Daddy with the idea, he gave me a flat out "no" and refused to talk about it again until a few months later when I got Mama on my side. The answer was still "no." The normal argument for kids who want to go to school at a big university is that the family can't afford it. My family could afford it―Daddy's job paid him well more than we needed to survive―but I still couldn't go because of Daddy's hunch. What finally got him to agree was a performance I gave at the county fair. He saw my talent and said "yes" but made me sit through a three hour long briefing over the procedure for when something finally happened with his hunch.

That's how I knew to come home when he called me. Daddy never called me when I was away at school. He said it was "too hard" to hear my voice and know I was so far away.

"Emma! Come up here!" Mama yelled from upstairs. I rose to my feet from my knees and left a tower of soup cans on the floor. "Hurry!"

"What is it?" I asked, rubbing my hands on my jeans.

"Look," she pointed at the TV with her hand covering her mouth.

_"__The interstates are completely shut down. I repeat: the interstates are completely shut down. Don't try to leave your homes, folks, because you won't get anywhere. There's still no news as to why the roadblocks have been put in place but we'll let you know as soon as it happens. This is Tracy Adkins with KWLX News."_

My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. "But what about Daddy?" I asked with tears brimming my eyes. "He'll get home, right?"

"He's gotta make it home," Mama nodded and, for the third time that day, pulled me into a hug. "He's gotta."

But Daddy didn't come home that night. Or the next. Or the one after that. He didn't come home on the night that Mama and I turned on the news and saw Tracy Adkins get torn to shreds by another human being, either. He didn't come home when the power went out and we had to run the generators. He didn't come home when the nights started to get sticky. He especially didn't come home when me and Mama started praying two times a day instead of one.

One day it got too hard for Mama to bear. We didn't know what was going on outside of our property line, all we knew was that the screams were getting closer and closer and louder and louder. There were more of them―we could hear them coming from past the stream. Not knowing where Daddy was kept her up at night, crying. It seemed that's all she ever did. Cry. I constantly thought about Tracy Adkins and the _thing_ that tore the flesh from her body, wondering if that's what was causing the screams. I found out the answer on the day I found my Mama hanging from the rafters in the cow house.

I remember her skin being a different tint than her normal milky white. Her blond hair had become a dull gray and her once bright green eyes were the color of an old chocolate bar left out in the snow. At first I thought I was still sleeping―I'd just woken up and had gone to the cow house to get milk for breakfast. It crossed my mind as I was putting my shoes on that Mama should have been up already, scrambling eggs or mincing vegetables, but I didn't think twice about it. When I let her loose, I thought she was still my Mama. But then she attacked me. She chased me back up to the porch and when I tripped over a step, she grabbed my leg and tried to bite me. This is how I saw Tracy die.

The inner battle between killing your Mama and letting her kill you is not something I would wish on anyone. Eventually my thought process turned from _this is my Mama_ to _I refuse to die like this_ and when it did, I went into high gear.

I kicked until she let go of my leg and stood up faster than I ever had before. I swung open the back door and ran inside, grabbing the only knife I could find on such short notice (Daddy didn't like it when knives were left out in the open). Mama left the one I used near the sink last night instead of washing it like she should have. Out of pure luck, I whacked her the first time I spun around and got her in the neck. It was already unsteady due to the rope she'd tied around it and my swing got her so hard that her entire head looked like a hangnail ready to fall off. Resisting the urge to vomit I stuck the knife directly through her forehead causing her to drop to the ground, officially dead.

Mama wasn't my Mama anymore.

The next day I buried her in the backyard next to her petunias. She spent hours and hours making them perfect, I figured that's where she would want to be. It's too bad that Mama did what she did―the screams stopped soon after she was gone.

That was two months and three days ago. Today is the Fourth of July and for the first time in my life I won't be at the county fair. I won't be watching fireworks with Matt. I don't even know where Matt is. I'm all alone in this big old house with a basement full of food and the rest of my land stocked with survival supplies. I haven't seen any living thing other than the animals in months. Even the squirrels that I used to hate so much are starting to disappear.

I'm by myself and waiting for my Daddy to find me. Hopefully death doesn't get here first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any piece of The Walking Dead franchise. If I did, I would be eating sandwiches with Norman Reedus, not writing fan fiction. The character of Emma Louise Prescott is one hundred percent mine, as she was created by me after watching too many episodes of The Walking Dead.**

* * *

_September_

When I was at school I used to pray for silence. I would lock myself away in my room and not answer when the knocks would come, asking if it was okay for a boy to spend the night in a dorm room. That probably didn't make me the best RA in the eyes of the college but in the eyes of the girls I was supervising, I was great. Now that silence surrounds me, my ears are starting to hurt. Sometimes I can't even hear the humid wind when I'm outside.

I've resorted to talking to the chickens and the cows so I don't have to keep talking to myself.

Twice now one of those things that Mama became have made their way onto my land. I turned the lights down low in the house so they couldn't see them from outside the window and just let them roam away. I'm not going to kill anything unless I have to. It's not a moral thing―I think those flew out the window when I stuck a knife into my mama's brain―it's a survival thing. I know I have plenty to live off of but I still don't want to take any chances of a knife breaking or their gurgling noises attracting other things like them.

From my spot on the front porch things seem almost normal. Minus not hearing any noises, it feels like I could be dreaming. A lucid dream, one that I can control my own actions in. Really all that's missing is the sound of gravel cracking due to cars from the road a few yards ahead and the excitement of Daddy coming home from work and telling me all about what he'd done that day. I used to wait for him on this very porch when I was a little girl. I would come home from school, eat my snack and do my homework on the porch until he got home. When he did, he would sit me on his lap and tell me about things like biochemistry and other fancy science things. My Daddy was the coolest Daddy on Earth. The other Daddies of the kids at my school didn't like him very much because he made more money than them and he was a Democrat. There aren't very many "bad words" in our part of Georgia but "Democrat" is at the top of the list. His traits didn't fault me, however: ever since I was little the girls in my class have wanted to be me.

But there's no use in dwelling on that now since they're all likely dead.

I've decided that I'm going to head into town today and see if there's anyone left. I figure that if anyone's alive from this trivial county that's where they'll be. Maybe I can help them with some supplies. I should pack a bag or two incase they need anything.

With a sigh I stand from my perch on the porch. I rub my hands on the front of my jeans and turn to go inside. Hopefully today will bring me someone new to talk to.

-x-

My Ford Focus glides smoothly down the rough surface of the gravel that leads into town. I'm driving slowly as to avoid making too much noise (how funny is it that while I'm so sick of silence I'm scared to make any noise?) and by doing so have started to notice tire marks on the road in front of me. I'm following in their tracks and that gives me new hope that maybe there _will_ be someone in town. Then again it's been two months and the tracks could very well be left from back when things weren't crazy.

Town is only about six miles down the road and I get there quickly. It looks like nobody has been here for awhile―there are no footprints, tire tracks, or any other signs of life―so my hopes of finding someone to talk to are dying by the second. I park my car in the middle of the road and get out quietly, pushing the door closed with my hip. In my hand I'm gripping an axe I grabbed from the garage before leaving, just in case I run into one of the things that Mama became. First, I head in the direction of Milly's General Store. Milly was a woman in her late fifties who inherited the General Store from her great granddaddy's legacy. There's a sign on the door that I read when I approach the handle.

_ Bell is disabled. Take what you need. May God bless you. -Milly_

I open the door and―true to her word―Milly has disabled the bell that once hung above it. A few shelves are knocked over and things have definitely been gone through. It looks like mostly medicine and first-aid supplies are gone. Thankfully I have plenty of those at home. I grab two boxes of tampons and a box of condoms and stick them in my backpack. You never know.

Outside, I see that there is a single "roamer" exploring my car. Swiftly I turn to the side to avoid being seen by it. I take a deep breath, plan out what to do in my head, and before I can turn back around to take care of the situation someone has already done it for me.

A young man in a baseball cap has stuck a screwdriver through the thing's brain and yelled "got it!" for (what I'm presuming is) his group to hear. I stay in my position, my breathing getting more and more erratic as more and more people head to where the young man is standing near my car.

"It has full tank of gas and two backpacks in the backseat," the young man tells a woman with blond hair.

"And you're sure it wasn't here during the first sweep?" she asks, looking around with caution.

"I'm positive. I would have noticed a bright green Ford in the middle of the street."

"There's no need for attitude," the woman scoffs. "They must be around here somewhere. Check and see what's in the backpacks and let's get out of here before they find us. We don't need any more trouble."

Any more trouble? What exactly have these people been through that they don't need any _more_ trouble?

I hear a car door open and peek against the wall I'm behind to see the young man rummage through the backpacks I packed specifically to hand out in case I came across anyone needing help. His eyes go wide as he finds one completely stocked with enough food to last the two of them two weeks and the other packed with water bottles. I tucked away some first aid materials in side pockets but he's too excited about the food to look for them.

"Andrea, look! It's food and water. Maybe Shane was right."

"Who is Shane?" I whisper to myself quietly as I look at them. Of course there has to be more than two of them. Maybe I should have packed more food.

"Looking for me?" a man asks from behind me, and as I turn to look at him I scream based on instinct. My hands are shaking so badly that I drop the axe and before I can bend to pick it up, the man has beat me to it and now holds my weapon out to me. I grab it from him and hold it out in front of me for protection. He laughs at me. "Honey, I don't mean any harm."

"Stay away from me," I warn and push myself as far back against the wall as I can go.

"Shane?" the blond woman calls. "Shane? What's going on?"

"I've found our Ford owner," he calls back, grinning at me in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable. The two come running toward us and another woman appears from behind Shane. "What's your name, sweetheart?" Shane asks me.

"Stay away from me," I repeat, the axe still between us.

Shane laughs loudly and throws his head back. Coming to town was a bad idea. I never should have done this. Leave it to me to get myself killed by something other than a roamer.

"Shane, you're scaring her," the new woman says. She looks to be about my age and as she inches closer to me I keep the axe up. "My name is Maggie," she tells me gently. "We're coming from Atlanta and are just looking for supplies. Is that your car out there on the road?" I nod. "Are you from around here? Are those your only supplies?" I don't reply and instead keep my lips tight and pursed. "We're not going to hurt you. Shane can be a little..._intimidating_ but he means no harm. Promise."

Slowly, _very_ slowly, I lower the axe. With a burst of courage, I explain: "My name is Emma. That is my car, this is my town. I haven't been here since things were normal and I don't know what supplies are left. The backpacks in my car―I packed them incase I came across people who needed them. Are you going to kill me?"

Maggie smiles. "No, we're not going to kill you," she reaches for a backpack that the young man is holding and he hands it to her. She hands it over to me.

"Keep it," I tell her. "You need it more than I do."

"Pardon my asking this," Andrea cuts in, "but if you can afford to give away this much food and water how are you expecting to survive yourself?"

They're all looking at me inquisitively, like I've got something on my face and they're trying to figure out what it is.

"I, um..." Unsure of whether or not I want to tell them about my land, I stop myself short of explaining. "I have enough to go around," I settle on. I'm still telling the truth, just without the details.

"Well we appreciate the help," the young man tells me. "I'm Glenn. This is Maggie," he points to the girl my age who has already introduced herself. "That's Andrea and that's Shane. But I'm sure you figured that out already." I nod. Seemingly all at once, they all take a step backwards to allow me to push myself off the wall. I notice the way Glenn reaches for Maggie's hand. They're obviously together.

"So if you're from here you know your way around, then?" Shane asks after a few seconds of silence.

"Mostly," I tell him. "A few things have changed since I was last here but for the most part things have stayed the same."

"Are there any gas stations near by?" Andrea asks, getting to the point and avoiding small talk.

I shake my head with a frown. "The closest gas station is about twelve miles away to the East. If you're going to try and go there, I suggest doing it before nightfall. You're going to be surrounded by woods and it's better to not be in the dark. Those woods were creepy _before_ things started going bump in the night."

"Damn," she mutters and looks to the sky. "It's probably about one right now. With the amount of gas we've got we can probably get halfway there and need to walk the rest of the way."

Nervously, and out of habit, I begin to bite the inside of my cheek. _These people are strangers_, I tell myself. _They are strangers and five minutes ago you thought they were going to kill you. Do not invite them to your home. Your safe zone. Emma, don't do it._

"Where are you guys coming from?" I ask.

Shane replies, "Fort Benning." At his words, my heart nearly stops. Maybe he knows something about Daddy. Maybe he saw them there and Daddy sent them here for me. "The place was a ghost town," he continues. "Completely gone. Not a soul there."

The excitement I was feeling falls into the pit of my stomach like an apple falls from a tree, never to be seen again. But the hope is still there. The idea that maybe, just maybe, my Daddy is alive and this is a sign from him to let these people into our home. So disregarding all of the bad things that could possibly happen, I look at the group of four in front of me and take a deep breath.

"Would you like a place to stay for the night?"

-x-

"Do you realize how lucky you are?" Maggie asks me in awe as I guide the four strangers into my living room. "You were completely prepared for this. I think you may have been the only people in the world who knew what was coming."

"I knew nothing. It was all my Daddy," I reply and point out a family photo on the mantle above the fireplace. "He was the smartest man I knew. Once he got a hunch...well, I think you can see what happened when Daddy got hunches."

Shane gives me a look and Andrea picks up on it.

"How did he know?" she asks me.

I pause, trying to think of a way to explain my daddy without giving away his secrets. Lucky for me, the Asian boy, Glenn, speaks instead.

"The only thing that would make this place better is a hamburger," he jokes. "With extra cheese!" Maggie laughs at her boyfriend (or whatever she chooses to call him, but they're obviously together) and nods.

"That would be pretty awesome."

I grin and walk to the door leading to the basement. "Well, Glenn, I might just be able to make your dream come true."

As I lead them down the stairs, I can hear a set of footsteps pacing in the living room. I know it's Shane by the heaviness of them―the boots he wears are loud and clunky on the hardwood. I have no idea what it's like in the world outside of my land, and what I came across in town is likely how it is everywhere. By pure chance I found these people who have been through much more than I have. I can do nothing but offer them a warm place to sleep for the night and if they choose not to accept it, well, I will have tried my best to help. I'm even planning on making cheeseburgers for dinner.

"This," I say when my feet hit the ground, "is Daddy's stockpile."

"Holy shit."

"I'm dreaming."

"It's a mirage."

Laughing, I turn to look at the three and notice that Shane has joined them. "Daddy saved food for months. Some summers I would come home from school and help him label and date each item. We would spend hours down here, laughing and concentrating and preparing for what Daddy liked to call 'it'. Never gave me a real name, just said we needed to be ready for 'it'."

Andrea, Glenn, and Maggie move to examine the shelves upon shelves of food. I prop myself onto one of the freezers filled with meat and other perishables like bread, watching them take everything in. Shane follows my moves and copies my behavior.

"What are you hiding?" he asks me quietly so the others don't hear.

"Nothing. I'm not hiding anything."

"You have to be. There ain't nobody left in this world who would be so...kind to people they've never met. Is this some sort of sham to get us into this basement so a buddy of yours can come lock us in and cook us for dinner? Because if it is, sweetheart, we won't go down without a fight."

I give Shane the once-over and take in his appearance for the second time that day. His eyes are dark and cold, untrusting. He reads "serious" and it's obvious that what he says goes for this group. "Listen," I tell him and clear my throat. "I'm not hiding anything from you. Promise. I'm just trying to help y'all out because, no offense, you look like you could use some help."

He laughs dryly. "See, but that's the problem. We do need help. And last time we got help, well..." his eyes move to Maggie. "Last time we got help, things didn't turn out too good."

"If you don't want my help, fine," I told him calmly. "But you should leave before dark. The woods get hard to navigate after sunset."

"We want your help," Andrea cuts in. Shane turns his head to look at her. I think he's annoyed but I haven't known him long enough to tell. "Shane is just...he's just being cautious. It's impossible to take someone's word nowadays, you never know who, or _what_, you're going to run into out there."

"I wouldn't know."

"You've really been locked away for that long?" asks Maggie. I nod. "A modern day Rapunzel."

"I wouldn't say locked away. I've just kept to myself, that's all. Been waiting for my Daddy to get here."

"Where is he?" Glenn asks, stealing a glace with Shane.

"Last I knew, he was at work." I choose not to go into detail about Fort Benning. They're already weary of me enough, no need to make it worse. "But I know he'll make it back. Daddy knows the back way."

"Are you sure you want to help us?"

The question comes from Maggie who looks so grateful I think she might cry. A good, hot shower will do her good. It will do them _all_ good.

"I'm positive, Maggie. It's the least I can do to thank y'all for not killing me back in town. I've got four bedrooms upstairs, each with their own bathrooms. No hot water limit, we're on our own system. Only thing is I like to keep the lights off at night, just to be safe. Light seems to travel fast these days and I don't want to risk any roamers coming around."

"Hot water?" Glenn asks with wide eyes. "A bed? _And_ cheeseburgers?"

"Yes, _and_ cheeseburgers," I reply with a soft laugh. "Go on up and pick out a room―shower if you'd like. I'll get started on dinner."

The invitation was all he needed to bolt up the stairs and out to their truck to, presumably, get his clothes. Maggie follows him and, after giving a knowing look to Shane, so does Andrea. Shane stands from where he sat on the freezer and I do the same, lifting the cover to reveal at least forty bags of meat and ten loaves of bread. I grab pre-molded hamburger patties, dated 2/17/10, and move to head upstairs. Shane stops me before I can.

"Emma?" he asks.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. For being so hospitable." He stops short, like he wants to say more. He doesn't.

"You're welcome, Shane."

-x-

I notice that they have all showered by the time I get dinner ready. The clothes they wear are dirty and cluttered with holes, and probably the cleanest ones they have at the moment, so I make a mental note to tell them about the washer and dryer out in the garage. Maybe they'll make the time to wash their clothes before they head back out tomorrow. With all of the exciting things to do around the house, though, I'm not too sure that they will.

Carefully, I slice off a third of a stick of butter and place it on top of sweet corn, already in a bowl and ready to be warmed in the microwave. I like to minimize the use of the stove ever since the pilot went out once, a couple weeks ago. It took me a few days to figure out how to fix it―Daddy never prepared me to fix the appliances. The plan was that he would be here to do that sort of thing. Now, as a precaution, I use the microwave when I need something heated up and have begun eating mostly cold meals like sandwiches and vegetables from the garden I've managed not to destroy. I'm down to two a day, skipping breakfast, because I've noticed that sitting around the property and eating all the time isn't doing much for my dancer's figure. Not that I need to worry about my weight, but if it comes to me needing to run, I don't want extra pounds holding me down.

"This smells delicious," Maggie tells me graciously with a smile on her face, walking into the kitchen and taking a seat at the round table Mama insisted on buying two years ago. Previously we had owned a square table large enough to seat four, but Mama wanted to host Christmas with my boyfriend's family of five and decided that the best way to solve the problem was to buy a brand new table. Daddy wasn't too happy when he came home, but got over it because he loved her too much to let her spending habit bug him. I guess he knew there were more important things to worry about.

"Thank you," I reply and hit the number two button, closing the microwave door. I press _Start_ then quickly head to the small Foreman grill I've placed on the countertop to flip the burgers. Four burgers; I'm eating toast with jelly instead, and I figure indoor grilling runs less of a risk than outdoor―this way there won't be a smell to attract any uninvited guests. "When's the last time y'all ate meat? Not to sound rude or anything, but I noticed you and Andrea are kind of frail."

Maggie pauses for a minute to collect her thoughts and then speaks. "It's rough out there, Emma. Real rough. I've seen things I never wanted to see and done things I didn't think I could do in a million years. You do what you need to do to survive and try not to think twice about it. The last time we had a real meal was months ago, at my family farm up North. I still remember it like it was yesterday...but there's no point in dwelling on the past." Her face turns cold as she thinks of what else to say while trying not to cry. "You are very lucky, Emma, that you haven't had to live through what I have." With that, Maggie stands and walks out of the room, leaving me alone with the food. Maybe she had to kill her mama, too.

-x-

"I can't believe I'm eating a cheeseburger!" exclaims Glenn like a child on Christmas who just opened a Red Rider BB Gun. "This is the best day ever!"

The table, minus Maggie, laughs at his enthusiasm. Maggie hasn't spoken a word around me since she stormed out of the kitchen earlier, and I'm beginning to think I said something that struck a nerve. Mama didn't raise me to speak my mind, and it figures that the one time I ever did I managed to offend someone. Daddy was always the one telling me to express my opinions and _never let the bastards get you down_, but the reality now is that neither Mama or Daddy are here and my mouth, having been unable to open for more than breathing for the last two months, can't seem to stop itself from making a fool out of me.

"I'm glad you like it so much," I tell Glenn with a smile on my face.

"I hate to be a buzz kill," says Shane when things go quiet. "But can I ask why you're all alone? It just seems strange that a young woman like yourself has...survived out here, is all."

Thinking on my feet, I reply.

"For a long time, my daddy had been gettin' hunches that something bad would happen. He started preparing for it years ago, I was maybe in the tenth grade the first time he mentioned stocking up on food." To my surprise, none of their faces turn with disgust when they realize that some food in the basement could possibly be that old. "Let's just say he had a good reason for having hunches. When I went off to Alabama for school, Daddy kept on goin' as if I had never left. Then one day I got a phone call tellin' me it was time, his hunches were right. I came home and Mama was about ready to blow a gasket, she was so scared. Daddy must've called her, too. We got the generators ready to go and then waited for Daddy to come home. But he never did. One day we saw Ms. Adkins from the news get eaten by a roamer and I guess by then Mama had had enough. I woke up a few mornings later and found her hanging from the rafters in the barn. She tried to eat me." My mind goes back to the knife by the sink, the way her head hung from her shoulders like the tear tab on a ketchup packet. I continue. "I...I took care of it, laid her to rest by her petunias. I've been alone ever since, just me and the animals. Waiting for my Daddy."

For the first time since our talk in the kitchen, Maggie looks at me. She has tears in her eyes, but says nothing. Glenn notices the tears and wraps his arms around her for comfort. I think I was right about her having to kill her mama.

"So your mom was bit by a walker, then?" Andrea asks.

"No," I tell her honestly. "Mama never left our land and no...walkers ever got in." It's the first time I've used the term _walker _to describe the undead and the way it rolls off my tongue entices me. I think I may replace _roamer _with _walker_ from now on.

Shane and Andrea look at each other and he nods before smirking at me. "Excuse me," he says and pushes his chair away from the table. He heads upstairs and Andrea is not far behind, excusing herself from the table. Maggie and Glenn are next and instead walk out to the back porch.

It seems that even with the best of intentions, I have somehow managed to scare these people away. I won't be surprised if they're gone in the morning, and I'll be even less surprised if half of the food in the basement isn't gone with them.

-x-

I'm on my way to bed when I hear them whispering through the vents. They don't seem to mind being upstairs by themselves, and for the first time in a long time I'm thankful that I'm alone, only because I can hear what they're saying.

"Something just isn't right."

"She has to be hiding something, Shane."

"There's no way this girl has survived for this long by herself. I mean, look at what happened to us and we were part of a group. There's strength in numbers and I think her numbers are hiding in these woods, waiting for the right time."

"Maggie, if that happens we won't go down without a fight. We won't go down at all―I brought the guns into my room."

"But the farm―"

"This isn't your farm, Maggie. This is a whole new territory."

"Did anyone else notice her eyes when Shane mentioned Benning? You think she knows something?"

"Whatever she's hiding, we'll find it. Let's all try to get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow could be a blessing like today or it can be a shit storm. Just gotta be ready for it."

They say goodnight to each other and I hear doors opening and closing, footsteps on the hardwood. After a few seconds of silence, I climb the stairs and head into my bedroom. I close the door, lock it, and change into pajamas before getting into my bed. With a heavy sigh, I roll on to my side to face the window, pulling my blanket over my shoulder and grasping it tightly.

_Daddy, this better be worth it._


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to everyone who has followed, added Swim to their favorites, and reviewed this! Unfortunately this is the last chapter I had prewritten and chapter four is not nearly halfway done so the next update may not be for a few weeks. Please stick with me, though, and I promise to make it worth your while.**

**If anyone is interested, I've posted links to character images and other fun stuff on my profile. Not sure if this is against the rules or not, but if it is please let me know!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any piece of The Walking Dead franchise. If I did, I would be eating sandwiches with Norman Reedus, not writing fan fiction. The character of Emma Louise Prescott is one hundred percent mine, as she was created by me after watching too many episodes of The Walking Dead.**

* * *

_September_

I wake up to the sun shining brightly in my eyes and don't know whether I am alone or not. It can't be any later than nine in the morning. I stand from my bed and stretch my arms above my head. My stomach growls but I ignore it. No eating until noon, that's the rule. I look down at myself and decide not to change, yet, as I want to shower before putting on clean clothes. The flannel shorts and tank top I'm wearing will have to be decent enough for now.

When I open my door, the doors that surround me are all closed. Either the group is still asleep or they closed them before running out before I was awake. There is nobody downstairs and for my own piece of mind, I go down into the basement to see if any food is missing. There isn't.

_Hmm._

From the kitchen, I glance into the backyard and see that one of the barn doors is slightly open. _Shit_, I think to myself. _A walker must have gotten in_. I slip on a pair of flip flops I left by the back door and grab the shovel I keep on the outside of the house, near the door. I walk quickly to the barn but quietly open the door, expecting to see an undead eating an animal. Instead, I see Shane on a stool milking Betsy, Mama's favorite cow.

"Jesus Christ," I breathe out, letting the shovel fall to the ground. "You scared me," I tell him with a hand over my heart. He looks over to me and smiles, still milking Betsy. "What?" I ask. The smile on his face doesn't go away, but he shakes his head.

"You think I was a walker?" I nod. "And you were gonna kill me with _that_?" I look down at the shovel only to find that I had accidentally grabbed a wide-toothed broom used to sweep the porch. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks and Shane laughs at me, shaking his head. He finishes with Betsy, stands up, and wipes his hands on his pants. "So tell me, Emma. Is there anything you're hiding from us?"

My mind goes back to the conversation I heard last night, to when Maggie accused me of having a plan to kill them and Andrea bringing up Benning. I decide not to let Shane know I heard his group talking about me, and instead answer his question as truthfully as I can.

"Shane, I don't know how much more open I can be. I told you about my mother, about my life before the world went to shit. Hell, when I ran into you in town I offered you bags of supplies and told you how to get to the gas station. I opened my home, my _safe zone_, up to you and your group. What have I done to betray your trust?"

"Don't take it personal, Emma," Shane replies as he moves closer. His stance is one of authority, like he's speaking for the group when he speaks to me. "It's just, we all find it hard to believe that a girl your age could survive out here all by herself, 'specially since you try to kill walkers with brooms." He stops for a moment to chuckle again and I stomp my foot, ready to protest. He stops me by holding his hand up. "But the thing is, Emma, I believe you. See, I was a cop before all this and I know a liar when I see one. You ain't a liar, but I don't think you're telling the whole truth. We all got secrets, but there ain't no more room for secrets in this world. Those people in there―the ones you opened your home to―they're the only people I got left. I may not show it, but I care about them a lot, and I will not stop myself from hurting anyone who tries to hurt them. Whatever secrets you're hiding, know that if they could possibly harm them, well, I won't be held accountable for my actions." He's as close to me as he can be without touching me, and he looks down into my eyes and I notice they are stern and serious, yet inquisitive at the same time. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," I tell him without the stammer he was more than likely expecting. Being an RA, I'm used to dealing with men―boyfriends of the girls in the dorm―in my face for some reason or another. Add to it that Daddy always told me to stand my ground and, well, I'm not afraid of a little confrontation. "And if you ever speak to me like I'm a child again, I will kick you and your group off my land without a second thought." I step forward so we are nose to chin, then look up to meet his gaze. "Do I make myself clear?"

Shane's eyes look to the side and then back at me. I've made him uncomfortable. Good.

"Do I make myself clear?" I repeat, not backing down.

"I'll take care of the group," is all he says before taking a step back and heading out of the barn.

-x-

The first to come downstairs is Glenn. He takes a seat at the kitchen table and watches me move. I've showered and changed clothes―into jean shorts and a simple black t-shirt―since my encounter in the barn with Shane and am currently working on lunch for everyone. It's nice having something to do, being able to help someone. Just the thought of human companionship used to make me anxious during the months I was alone, and now that it's here I am the complete opposite. It almost feels normal, like I didn't meet these people during the apocalypse and they're guests of Daddy or Mama that I'm trying to make feel at home. I open the bag of frozen strawberries that I grabbed from downstairs and throw some in a bowl with frozen blueberries. Glenn is still watching me, and I can't figure out if it's because he's just as shocked as I am that someone else is alive or if it's because he's been told to by Shane.

When I came in the house after taking care of the milk from Betsy, Shane had already retreated back upstairs. I heard doors opening and footsteps from above my head as I sat at the table and waited. I wanted to give them their privacy and let them talk about me freely, without overhearing this time. I gave them twenty minutes before I went upstairs to shower and change. They were crowded into the small guest bedroom next to Mama and Daddy's room when I went upstairs, and by the time I was done they had gone back to their separate rooms. I guessed that Shane was sleeping in the small guest room based on its proximity to the stairs―if there needed to be a quick exit, he would be the one to handle it first. I knew Glenn and Maggie were sharing a room and assumed they would be in the slightly larger guest room, off in the back of the house. That left the room next to mine for Andrea, the room that was originally supposed to be for the sibling that my parents never got around to creating. Their rooms weren't important to me, but I wanted to know, and _still_ want to know, if they're going to be staying.

"Would you like some fruit?" I ask Glenn as I take a seat across from him at the table, pushing the bowl toward him.

"Thank you," he says, grabbing a handful of berries. I nod.

There isn't much to say, and the silence between us becomes awkward quickly. Maggie joins us just as Glenn goes for another handful, probably making the situation worse. The last thing I need is for her to think I'm trying to steal her boyfriend. I already _have_ a boyfriend, I just don't know where he is.

"Want some?" I ask her to be polite.

She shakes her head. "No thank you. I'm allergic." With a quick look down, she sighs heavily and looks at me. "Emma, I'm sorry for the way I treated you yesterday. I wasn't being fair to you. I didn't know you had to kill your Mama, I had no business judging your means of survival."

"I accept your apology," I tell her because there's nothing else I can say. Even if I didn't accept it, I would say that I did. It's how Mama raised me. "And I'm sorry for mentioning how thin you look. It wasn't very friendly of me."

Maggie nods in response and the conversation ends. Glenn is still eating from my bowl of fruit when Andrea and Shane walk in, Andrea with a face of stone and Shane smirking at me like he's been doing since I met him. It seems that every time I look at him he's smirking―I think it's a tactic to make me uncomfortable but it doesn't work.

"Emma," Shane begins, "I would like to thank you for taking us in for the night. It was very kind of you, but I'm afraid we won't be staying any longer."

I am not the only one in the room who is shocked; the look on the faces of Glenn and Maggie proves this to me. Glenn stands, as if to protest, but Shane stops him by lifting his hand: the universal symbol that says _hang on_.

"While we appreciate the meal you made for us and the warm beds you provided, we must continue on to our original destination."

"Which is?" I ask, interrupting him.

Shane smirks at me again. "The plan is to head North, near Washington. Figure they would have done everything possible to protect the big money and even bigger egos." I nod. I respect his decision, even if I would rather have them stay here with me, if not for their safety but my sanity. "Glenn, pack everything into the truck. Andrea, Maggie, make sure the guns are still loaded and locked." Wordlessly, the group follows his orders. They leave together and head in different directions, the quietest I've ever heard them be. Shane looks at me again with that dumb smirk. "Good luck on your own, Emma," he says dryly before following in the footsteps of his group.

-x-

I hand Andrea a bag full of canned goods that she places in the back of the truck, next to the two cases of bottled water and cooler filled to its brim with meat. Sure, Shane and I didn't get along, but my conscience wouldn't be able to handle sending them off with nothing. When her hand brushes mine, I look into her eyes and find that they're pooling with tears. Andrea and I haven't had much time to talk and I'm not sure if I'm reading her correctly.

"Are you okay?" Daddy's words rang in my head: _The only way to ever know if you're right is to ask questions. Never be afraid of asking questions, Emma._

She looks surprised that I spoke to her and I regret not doing so when I had the chance to yesterday. "I'm fine," she says, but water still lines the bottom of her eyes. "It's just...I feel like he's making an irrational decision, here. Winter is coming. Frost was on the grass this morning. We've gone for months without stability and now that we finally found it he wants to leave. I just...I'm sorry," she looks at the ground. "I'm complaining when I shouldn't be. I should be thankful that I even have a group."

"You don't have to go with him, you know," I say softly. "He's not your keeper."

Leaving her to her thoughts, I head back into my house to find Glenn and Maggie standing in the living room hugging tightly. I don't say a word, only head upstairs with one goal in mind: find Shane. When I find him, he's in the small guest bedroom, just as I predicted he would be, packing clean clothes into his duffel bag. I guess he found the washer and dryer. I want to walk in without a care, but since I'm in Mama's house and Mama taught me to mind my manners, I knock twice before entering.

"Are you out of your damn fool mind?" Mama also taught me to speak with respect, but she lost the ability to tell me what to do when she tried to eat me. "Glenn, Maggie, Andrea―they don't want to leave. One look at them and you would see it; the tears brimming their eyes and the fear on their faces. I know you've got some sorta distaste for me and sure, that's fine because I actually think you're kinda an asshole, but don't do this to them just because you can't stand me. Don't risk their lives because you're selfish enough to leave."

"You think I'm being selfish?" he laughs, zipping the duffel. "Oh, Emma. That's a real gem. We ain't leaving because I think you're a spoiled, ungrateful little bitch. We're leaving because I know there's something out there, something that you know about but aren't talkin' about, and dammit I'm gonna be the one to find it."

"You have so much to prove that you're willing to risk the lives of three other people just to do it?"

Shane slings the duffle over his shoulder and huffs a laugh. "You wouldn't survive twenty minutes out there, Emma." His face gets closer to mine than it did in the barn. I can feel his breath on my nose as he looks down at me. "Don't pretend that you know anything about what this world is like." He slips past me, into the hall and down the stairs.

I try to stop my hands from shaking.

-x-

Hugs and a million "thank you"s are the final interaction I have with Glenn, Maggie, and Andrea before they pile into the Expedition. Shane makes sure all the doors are closed before smirking at me and crossing his arms over his chest.

"You could solve this, right now," is what he tells me. "Tell me what you know, why your eyes lit up when I mentioned Benning, and we'll stay. Their lives will be in less danger."

"Don't try to put this on me!" I all but shout. Three gazes are watching my every move, trying to figure out what's going on. "I told you that I know nothing. All I know is my Daddy got a hunch and got prepared. I'm sorry that your intuition isn't as good as his was...is. Don't do this to them, Shane. They're good people. They don't deserve it."

"I took care of them for the last five months, I think I know what they do and don't deserve."

"You are the biggest asshole on the planet," I tell him with a glare. "I hope that one day, if this ever ends, you meet someone and grow old with them. Have yourself a few kids. And then I hope they're taken from you like my Mama and Daddy have been taken from me. It's what you deserve for doing this to them."

Shane uncrosses his arms and loses the smirk. "Good luck on your own, Emma," he says before walking to the driver's side, getting in, and slamming the door shut.

I watch the Expedition drive away as I sit on the front porch, knees to chest, and stay there for awhile even after the hum of its engine is gone. I start to think about when I was a young girl sitting on this very porch, listening to Daddy tell me about what he had done at work that day. It went in one ear and out the other; I was too focused on performing reenactments of scenes I'd seen in Mama's movies to care about molecular biology. Daddy was trying to teach me things, I now know. Trying to prepare me for the madness he knew was out there. It is my responsibility as his daughter to find those lessons now, before it becomes too late to save the three people who don't deserve to die.

-x-

I start in Daddy's office, the room next to the attached garage. We have two garages: one is a standalone in the backyard and houses the two cars and "go bags," and one is attached to the house and contains extra survival supplies along with a backup generator system. I dig through piles of unorganized paperwork, birth certificates, and social security cards before coming across a photo of the three of us: Daddy, Mama, and me. I'm standing between them, one arm draped over Mama's shoulder and the other wrapped around Daddy's back. I'm grinning and Mama has tears in her eyes; I had just graduated high school. Daddy has a happy expression on his face, but he's not smiling―he's looking into the camera like a puppy looks at a leaf blowing in the wind, inquisitive and enthralled with the idea of new things. But he was happy, and that's what matters. Deciding not to get caught up in memories of the past, I push the photo to the side and continue digging for research clues.

I finally find what I'm looking for about halfway through the second desk drawer. There is no label on the 4x6 green notebook, only a scratched out manufacturer's logo that has left a spot of white, fuzzy cardboard on the cover. Its contents are what I'd been expecting: vague and hard to decipher unless you'd known Daddy. His uppercase chicken scratch reads _biochemical mass_ followed by _pools of_ before ending with _Iraq_. Carefully I put everything back in its place, except the notebook, and head into the family room to continue trying to figure out the end of the world.

-x-

_March 2, 1990_

_ Came across an unknown substance in the lab today. Sent from Washington, warns it could be substantial enough to make an impact on future substances. Won't know for sure until tested. Working on it._

_ April 5, 1990_

_ Test results are back from first three exams. Nothing to worry about, just a few minor precautionary measures to be taken when dealing with Bacteria X._

_ March 2, 1994_

_ Bacteria X has evolved into something much more harmful. Will test soon._

_ June 19, 1994_

_ Washington has demanded access to BX and in return we will be compensated with new tech equipment. There's talk it could go to the CDC for further testing but I doubt the probability―they haven't been good for much of anything as of late._

_ April 7, 1997_

_ CDC says BX is nothing more than sister to Ebola. It's been "taken care of". Heard it may be used in warfare at later time._

_ November 11, 1999_

_ Found BX growth in a test tube. Checked the dates―was used for original BX testing. Harper wants to inform Washington. We'll see about that._

_ September 12, 2001_

_ BX has been stolen from the lab. No leads on where it could have gone to. Will inform proper authorities tomorrow._

_ October 1, 2001_

_ Still no sign of BX. Lab is under watch due to "inability to inform" CDC and other sources of its emergence in test tube. Nothing known on war, though with recent happenings it's likely that BX will be involved somehow._

_ May 8, 2006_

_ Got word from CNN that Iraq is working on new biological weapon. Mentioned something about evolution and danger correlation. Could this be BX?_

_ December 24, 2008_

_ Trying to find BX repellant. Bad feeling in stomach pits about future biochemical mass._

_ February 17, 2009_

_ Still no repellant. Working on it._

_ August 23, 2009_

_ BX has been found in airport bathrooms. Big cities: Chicago, LA, New York. No fix yet, fear running out of time. From previous research, BX seems to grow while submerged._

_ March 30, 2010_

_ No major outbreaks yet, though testing has confirmed BX is now widespread. No clue on how long it will take before other water contamination occurs. Warnings to keep kids out of pools of water for upcoming Summer should be prepared soon._

_ January 10, 2011_

_ BX is in all water. So far not harmful to human life._

_ April 4, 2011_

_ BX has been consumed by all Americans, testing concludes. Will eventually cause mass paranoia and hysteria. Things will not go back to normal after this. Population decreasing is expected, large-scale._

_ April 5, 2011_

_ First death has been recorded in Columbus. Gary Reign, age 89. Died of old age. Came back due to BX exposure while alive. Will check status of reagent in lab tomorrow._

-x-

Daddy's notes ended that day. There are drawings between entries, random circles with X's covering a majority of the pages. He was driving himself crazy, Daddy was. If he's out there right now, on his way home, I know he's worse. He's blaming himself, wondering if he could have stopped it. He couldn't have, I know that, he knows that. But Daddy, like me, won't ever let someone else take the blame.

I guess we both carry a lot of guilt.

The sun is to the North when I finally head out on to the gravel road in search of Shane and the others. I don't know if it's the idea of human companionship that has me looking for them or the need to prove myself to Shane. Though he's a jerk, I want him to know what's going on. I want to help make an impact on the changed world, even if that's not what Daddy's research was originally intended to do. I want, I _need_, to prove that I wasn't lying when I said I didn't know what was going on. And now that I know the truth, or as much of the truth as I'm going to know until Daddy comes home, the lives of three people will be saved. Shane's I'm not so sure about. I might kill him before the dead do.

I follow their tracks until three miles out of town when I see the Expedition in the middle of the road. From what I can tell, there are no walkers around. They must have run out of gas.

_Dammit. I hope they listened yesterday when I told them not to go looking for gas stations. I should have sent them out with gas cans, not food. Stupid, stupid decisions, Emma._

The Kole barn is off to the right, about a football field's distance away from where the Expedition is parked. As I approach it, I notice footprints in the dirt leading to the wide double doors. The hitch has been lifted off and as I reach to pull a door to enter, the barrel of a gun lines itself with my forehead. Before I have a chance to react, it's gone.

"Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here," Shane greets with that stupid smirk on his face. "Did ya miss me that much?"

"Funny," I scoff. The other three turn at the sound of my voice. "What are you doing here? This barn has been empty for years."

"Well how were we supposed to know that, sweetheart? We ain't ever been here before," replies Shane.

"God, Shane, come off it!" Andrea says loudly. "We're all tired and hungry and didn't want to leave Emma's land in the first place, so if you could shut the hell up and apologize to her for being a dick we'd all greatly appreciate it!"

Shane looks at her with an expression I haven't seen from him before. It's sort of like the look Daddy would give Mama when she said something so ridiculous that it could almost be true. Unlike Daddy's look, though, Shane's doesn't have an ounce of pure happiness. His eyes are still as cold and black as the first time I looked into them.

Taking the opportunity, I look at Shane with a triumphant grin. "Well?" I ask comically. Glenn and Maggie move to stand beside him, Andrea follows.

"I ain't apologizing for nothing," he spits angrily. "And if you ask me, Andrea, you should apologize for being such a hypocritical bitch. You, too, Glenn, Maggie."

He's talking about last night. He has to be. While I was unsure of who said what last night, apart from Maggie thinking I had people waiting in the woods to attack them, it's obvious by the looks on their faces that they carry guilt for doubting me. But they don't know that I know the words they spoke of, and, deciding to be the bigger person like Daddy taught me to be, I let their words go with the wind that comes from outside the barn doors.

"Do you think I don't know about your conversation last night?" I ask the four of them. "The vents in my house are like speakers. I heard every word you said, and I forgive you for them. You were simply looking out for yourselves." With a sigh, I continue. "Glenn, Maggie, Andrea―You are more than welcome to come back to my house with me. I would like nothing more than to help you. Shane," I say in a lower register, "you are also welcome. As much as I'd like to punch you, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I leave you here alone."

"I'm going," Maggie says first, followed by Glenn and Andrea. They move to stand next to me and Shane doesn't say a word. It's like the classic old Western movies and the inevitable scene with the gun face off, except in this movie only one of us carries a gun and the other fights with wit and charm.

"If you think I'm about to play by your rules, you're crazy," is what Shane finally says to me. "I've given up too much―gone through too much―to be pushed around by some...some _bitch_ who don't know nothin' about this world."

With a nod, I smile at him sweetly. "Good luck on your own, Shane," I tell him before turning to walk back to my car, my three new companions following closely behind.

-x-

It's dusk when I hear the gravel cracking from my spot in the kitchen. I'm cleaning up from after dinner―grilled cheese with bacon and tomatoes―and everyone else is either upstairs or exploring the land on their own. I have no reason not to trust them, for they have trusted me and I've come to terms with the consequences of my decision to let them stay here. Turning off the sink, I open the door that leads to the back porch and wipe my wet hands on my shorts as I walk around to the front of the house.

It's the Expedition. I don't wait for Shane to exit the vehicle before I move towards it, and by the time I reach the hood he's opened the door, slammed it, and is leaning against the warm metal.

"You came back," I state the obvious. He doesn't say anything, simply looks at the ground and kicks the dirt with his feet. Laughing slightly, I repeat myself. "You came back."

"Listen, I...this isn't a power thing, okay?" His voice is strained and his exhaustion is evident. I notice new stains on his shirt but choose not to mention them. "I'm sorry for the way I acted around you and the way I treated you. I've been through too much to fall into a trap _now_, when I've come so far to finding answers. The last thing I want is for those people in there to hate me and for you to think I'm some sorta high 'n mighty dickwad when you've done nothin' but be welcoming to me. My Mama raised me better than that." When he speaks of his mother, he finally lets his eyes meet mine. "And I'm sure your Mama is the reason you been so kind to me when I don't deserve it."

I give him one nod. One. Any more than that and I may start crying.

"Your room is the way you left it," I say. "Go make yourself something to eat, take a shower. Get some rest. The things I have for you can wait until the morning." As I'm walking back up the steps to the porch, he calls for me. "Yeah?" I ask him, sort of uncomfortable with the situation.

"I'm sorry."

Nodding again, I leave him to gather his things.


	4. Chapter 4

******Sorry this took so long. Things have gotten pretty crazy on my end, but I've finally figured out where this is going. I can't wait for you all to read what's in store!**

******Thank you to everyone who has commented, added Swim to their favorites, and subscribed. It is appreciated much more than you know or realize.**

******Disclaimer: I do not own any piece of The Walking Dead franchise. If I did, I would be eating sandwiches with Norman Reedus, not writing fan fiction. The character of Emma Louise Prescott is one hundred percent mine, as she was created by me after watching too many episodes of The Walking Dead.**

* * *

_September_

When I was a teenager and would complain about having to spend a Saturday labeling cans or being the only girl in school with a car from a year later than 2003, Daddy would tell me that some day it would all be worth it. He never gave me any real details, just said that the time would come when I would understand why we put ourselves through so much trouble and I would be thankful that we did it. I thought he was crazy, Mama thought he was crazy. But Mama had always thought something was off with him―she told me so once, when I was around age seven, that his craziness was the reason she married him.

Mama was my age, twenty five, when she first met Daddy, then eighteen. It wasn't normal for a woman her age to be unmarried and have no children and Mama knew it, but she couldn't bring herself to date anyone after the death of her first boyfriend Paul who had joined the army and died overseas. She told me that she had spent years trying to figure out what was wrong with her―if she was "tainted"―only to be reassured that nothing was once my Daddy came along. He told her she was beautiful and took her out on dates that made her feel alive again. When my Papa found out about my Daddy, he told him to stay away and threatened him with his shotgun. Daddy didn't listen and showed up the next morning with a bouquet of pink roses, Mama's favorite, and a shit-eating grin on his face. They got married the next year and had me eleven months after that.

Their love, the crazy, shit-eating grin kinda love, is the kind of love I want. Even if it _is_ the end of the world, I have to believe that that love is out there for me, whether it's in the form of Matt, wherever he is, or someone else who has made it out alive.

-x-

"Emma?" Shane asks, interrupting my train of thought. I'm on the porch, where I always seem to be, watching the wind make tree leaves dance. I turn my head to look at him and don't give a vocal response. "Whatever it is that you found―and I mean _whatever _it is―I don't want to know."

"What?" I reply in surprise. I went through all of that for nothing?

"Whatever you found is going to jeopardize the safety of all of us. I don't...I wouldn't be able to...I'm not the guy that you think I am. I ain't some grade-A asshole who only thinks of himself, but I ain't about to take shit from anyone. Not after what I've been through. But what you know might change things, and I couldn't live with myself if I became my own worst enemy. I already have too many enemies, I don't need any more."

"Too many enemies?" I think out loud. The only enemy I have is Beth and that's because of my own doing, kicking her in the shins and all.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time." And I do. It's the end of the world and I've got more time than I should, all because my Daddy knew what was going on before anyone else and made sure I would be safe. "Far as I know, your group is still sleeping. But I'm sure they're a part of what you have to say."

Shane takes a seat beside me on a lounge chair, the one that Mama used to sit and read on on cool Spring mornings. He keeps his back straight and shoulders stiff and looks out in front of him, refusing to make eye contact.

"I was a cop. I am a cop. I...was a cop," he begins with a deep breath. "My partner, best friend...Rick. He was shot right before the dead started walking. I went to the hospital to save him and...and I tried. I really did. And then he stopped breathing, I thought he was dead. But I guarded the room, I made sure he was safe. The government was killing people in the hallway, innocent people who weren't infected with anything―no bites, nothin'."

_ Came back due to BX exposure while alive_.

"I went to his house, went to find his wife and son. If I couldn't save Rick, I was sure as hell gonna save the ones he loved. Ain't like I had anything to save for myself, 'cept maybe a Dylan record or two. Nowhere near as important as Lori and Carl. We got as far as we could on a packed highway, hearing murmurs about the CDC having a cure and a refugee center in Atlanta."

_ There's talk it could go to the CDC for further testing but I doubt the probability―they haven't been good for much of anything as of late_.

"Had to get off the highway for awhile, headed to a quarry and met Glenn's group. Andrea showed up the next day with her sister and a man named Dale, a nice man but he talked too much to like him. Got settled in, comfortable. Added more people to the group―the Dixon brothers weren't good for nothin', 'cept hunting small game to feed the camp. I wasn't afraid to tell them that and they weren't afraid to tell me to go to Hell. Few other families with kids, Carl got a friend named Sophia but...she ain't around no more. Glenn was our runner, he'd go to the city and get supplies while the rest of us waited at camp. Sure enough, the first time he takes more than himself there's trouble and the one behind all of it is Rick. I ain't never been happier to see someone in my life, but it was like I was lookin' at a ghost. Lori, Carl...they were floored, over the moon excited. But then Lori out of nowhere stopped talking to me, told me to stay away from her and Carl thinking that I lied to her about Rick being dead. We ended up at the CDC after our camp got overrun, almost didn't get let in."

_ CDC says BX is nothing more than sister to Ebola. It's been "taken care of". Heard it may be used in warfare at later time._

"Only lasted one night―the place blew up when the generators ran out. Jenner, the guy that let us in, he was the only one left. Said something about this thing being unavoidable and wanted us all to stay and burn with the building. Rick...Rick and his magical fuckin' powers got us out of there with minutes to spare. Saved the day. We headed back to the highway and were getting ready to head to Benning when a herd came through. We lost that little girl, Sophia, in the woods. Spent too fuckin' long lookin' for that girl. We all knew she was dead but ain't nobody but me wanted to admit it. Carl got shot while we were lookin' and that's how we met Maggie, ending up at her family's farm. Her dad was a doctor, a vet, really, but the closest we had. Some time went by, Carl got better thanks to Hershel, Maggie's dad, and that's when shit hit the fan. One day we find out there's walkers in one of the barns, the one our camp was closest to. So I took them out, convinced the group to help me. Wasn't expecting Sophia to be in there, but it didn't change nothin'. What else was I supposed to do? I...I did what I thought was best for the group. But Rick, he...he disagreed. Said we shoulda abided by Hershel's 'no guns' rule. He'd been disagreein' with me for awhile by that point so I said my goodbyes and as I was leavin', Andrea told me she was coming with. Glenn followed her and Maggie followed him. Gotta say, I was surprised by that one. Glenn had been one of Rick's biggest fans. We made our way towards Benning, the place I knew, I just _knew_ we should have gone to instead of the CDC. Thank whatever God is left that we didn't. The place was a ghost town, filled with nothing but still breathing, walking, ghosts. And thank the same God that Rick hadn't agreed with me. If he were to know I was wrong I don't think he woulda ever looked at me the same. Not that he had since...since."

"So how did you end up in Albany? It's over 100 miles," I say in surprise.

Daddy used to spend three or four days at work and then come home for the rest of the week to make up for lost time with the family. Mama always told him he was crazy for working so far away, asking him why he couldn't find a job closer to us. He would always give the same reason: _You'll thank me someday_. But Mama will never thank him; that job has fallen on to my shoulders.

"Lot'sa luck. Best way to describe it. Never really ran into trouble, 'cept for a few herds of walkers along the way. Seems that nobody really lived near that stretch of highway. It was smooth sailing, only took us about a month, give or take a week."

"You must have some angels on your side," I smile at him. For once, he smiles back at me without a trace of the smirk I have come to associate with him. "Sometimes having enemies is a good thing."

Shane laughs at that, throwing his head back. "Not in this world, Emma," he says and then laughs himself into a peaceful quiet. "Not in this world."

-x-

_October_

The last days of September came and went with a loss of humidity and the addition of falling leaves. There hasn't been any bad blood between myself and Shane since the night he came back, and his group has been more than helpful around the land. It's nice to sleep in every once in awhile instead of waking up at four in the morning to milk Betsy. Shane has kindly taken that responsibility off of my shoulders.

Things have actually gone pretty smoothly, save for a day or two when the generators went out and I had to dig through Daddy's files in order to figure out how to fix them. Turns out someone had accidentally flipped a switch down in the basement when getting food from the pile. Knowing my gracelessness it was probably me. We've been lucky enough to only have dealt with three or four walkers and Glenn took them out easily with a baseball bat.

_Practicing for the season_, he told me with a laugh.

It felt good to be laughing again. I could only hope my new friends felt the same.

Because that's what they have become: friends. Maggie and I, after what happened when I questioned her about her weight, got to know each other and I honestly think that if we would have met before the world went to shit, we would have been best friends. Andrea and I work out together every afternoon, whether it be squats or lunges or simple arm exercises. It keeps us busy and ready for action. Andrea, I've learned, is _always_ ready for action. Glenn and I geek out over the same things, like old school B-movies and have been known to spontaneously burst into song when in the same room together. He's like the little brother I always wanted. The little, oriental brother. And surprisingly, I've grown the closest to Shane. If I need something, he knows about it before I do. If I want something, he's got it for me before I know that I want it.

There was one morning two weeks back when I woke up with a killer headache, fully willing to spend the entire day in bed and not participate in the scheduled realignment of the stockpile shelves. Realignment days are the worst because I have to rotate each and every canned good on the shelf, thaw any close-to-expiration meats and then flash freeze them to maintain freshness, and write down every single thing that I do. When I went down to the basement to start the job, Shane was already halfway done. To express my gratitude, I made steaks for dinner after my headache went away.

According to my calendar, it's October seventh: my anniversary with Matt. I wish I knew where he is, if he's safe. Or if he's dead. I'd like to know that, too. It's the not knowing thing that freaks me out the most, but mostly not knowing where Daddy is. He should be here by now. He should have been here months ago.

I'm not supposed to be doing this without him.

I'm not supposed to be doing this at all.

-x-

On October ninth, I wake up to Andrea yelling. I rub the sleep from my eyes and slip on a pair of flip flops I'd left by my bed, not bothering to throw on a sweatshirt. I make casually make my way downstairs and begin to increase my speed when Maggie, too, starts yelling.

"What the hell is going on?" I ask when I reach the foyer, but nobody is there. The yelling is coming from the backyard.

What I see when I look out the patio door enrages me. Walkers, at least thirty five of them, have made themselves comfortable in my yard. The barn door is open but I try not to focus on it, instead muttering _shit_ under my breath and looking around for something, anything, to kill them with.

"'Bout time you showed up," Shane grumbles from next to me. "Here," he hands me a small pistol and turns the safety off. "Aim for the head and try not to kill anything that's not dead."

"Asshole," I reply after he walks away. It's too early to be dealing with this. The urge to aim the gun at the back of his head slowly fades away the further he gets from me and I slowly and steadily aim for a walker making its way towards Andrea.

I manage to actually get it in the head and it goes down quickly. Andrea looks at me with wide eyes and forms the words _thank you_ with her mouth. I nod and take care of at least six more walkers before they're all officially dead.

Glenn and Maggie are covered in blood, having used baseball bats, knives, and pitchforks to kill walkers. Andrea is catatonic, sitting on the ground with her knees to her chest, only a small screwdriver laying on the hard ground next to her. Shane is standing with his hands on his hips, occasionally rubbing the top of his scalp and surveying the damage.

I can't stop my feet from moving towards the barn. I need to know if my cows are gone, if my life just got a hell of a lot more complicated.

They're all gone. All six of them, even Betsy, have torn open midsections with intestines spilling out. Blood is everywhere.

"Fuck," I whisper, and it's the first time I've said the word since I was eleven and Mama washed my mouth out with soap for being such a vulgar girl.

_You're supposed to be a lady, Emma. Start talkin' like one._

"Fuck," I say it again. Tears well up in my eye ducts and with another glance at Betsy, I let them fall. The only living thing I had left of Mama's is gone and definitely not coming back. Unless walker cows exist.

"The lock was open," Shane says. "It was open and I don't know how. I was the last one in here and I closed it up tight. I swear, Emma, I..."

"It's fine, Shane." Sniffling, I wipe my face with both hands and take a deep breath. "It's fine. There's probably a fault in the walls. I'll figure it out. Right now, I just...I just need to sit down."

So I do. I sit next to Betsy and stroke her fur, thinking about Mama and Daddy and how it came to be like this. For the first time since Shane, Andrea, Glenn, and Maggie came into my life, I feel alone.

It's exactly how I remembered it.

-x-

There's frost on the grass when he wakes, a gust of freezing wind causing him to curse from the cold. His boots leave footprints in the wetness so he shakes them away with his palm after each step. Nobody needs to know that he's gone.

_Forty paces straight, six paces left, seventy paces straight, three paces right._

The paper is there, where he expects it to be. He reads it, looks around, and scribbles more notes on its surface before putting it back behind the tree bark where he found it.

One week to go.


	5. Chapter 5

******Thank you to everyone who reads Swim, has added it to their favorites, subscribed, and left me beautiful comments that make me smile every time I get one. Your support means more than you know.**

******Disclaimer: I do not own any piece of The Walking Dead franchise. If I did, I would be eating sandwiches with Norman Reedus, not writing fan fiction. The character of Emma Louise Prescott is one hundred percent mine, as she was created by me after watching too many episodes of The Walking Dead.**

******ps- This went in a completely different direction than I had originally planned which is part of the reason an update took so long. I had to wrap my brain around the new craziness!**

* * *

_October_

Of all the things I learned at the University of Alabama, three have stuck with me. One, everyone bleeds crimson red for a reason: to show their support of the Roll Tide. Two, it is impossible to use an entire five subject notebook while enrolled only in theatre classes. Three, the phrase all the world's a stage is the truest phrase in the history of words.

While I was still at school, there was never a day that went by that I didn't see or hear someone acting their way out of something―_I lost the syllabus so I didn't get that homework done on time_; _baby, I swear it was only a one time thing_; _that's not weed, it's oregano!―_I'd heard them all. The best were the excuses given to me by the girls I RA'ed, oregano included, which usually included tears and false smiles with shaking fingers that they tried their best to hide. I pride myself on my ability to call people out on their bullshit, if not through confrontation through mentally processing exactly what they're hiding and finding some way to use it against them.

So far, I've yet to meet a person I can't read like a book, and maybe that's why the comfort of Shane's company has meant so much to me. Ever since the barn incident four days ago, he's been overly kind and helpful to make up for the guilt that he feels for not locking up tight enough. We did a perimeter check of my land after cleaning up the walker bodies and noticed nothing unusual, not a single fault in any barn wall. He blames himself for the event, but I don't. Of course, this isn't something that he's told me but something that I've picked up based on his actions. For example, Shane takes a walk down to the creek every morning and just before he leaves, he stares at the barn for a good two minutes. When he comes back, he looks at it again out of the corner of his eye. I'm usually up and making breakfast so I can see him coming from the kitchen window. As far as I can tell, he doesn't know that I watch him which is a good thing, 'cause if he did I'm sure he'd make some joke about me having a crush on him.

He's been doing that a lot lately, cracking jokes about his looks and my looks and the looks we give each other. I mean it's not like a look at him like he's a popsicle and it's a hot day in July, but without the company of knowing Matt's whereabouts my eyes have started to...wander. Mostly to Shane's behind, but the one time he caught me looking at his abdominals is the one time he won't seem to forget. I'm taking his joke cracking as another sign of his guilt. Everyone needs to laugh sometimes.

But Andrea notices the looks, too. Maggie and Glenn are usually off in their own little world except for meals and chores around the property so I rarely see them, but when I see Andrea, and I see her often because she's always downstairs or outside, she's looking at Shane and I like we're doing something wrong, almost with jealously. I choose not to think about it and focus my attention on _not_ focusing my attention on Shane.

It hasn't been working very well, but I'm trying.

-x-

"Hey, Emma?" I hear Shane ask as I'm digging through one of the freezers downstairs. "You busy?"

"No, just looking for something to make for dinner," I respond.

We've been running low on meat lately and I don't know if it's because I'm making meals more than usual or if Daddy just didn't pack enough. From what I remember of Daddy's inventory sheets (that went missing right around the time I was looking for his notebook), we should still have plenty of beef and chicken to go around, only now I have to dig through frozen fruits and vegetables just to find a chicken breast or two. It doesn't make any sense, but neither does the walking dead so I haven't said anything about it yet.

"Why, what's up?" I ask.

"I've been thinking, and I think we should make a run into town."

"What do we need from town?"

The last time the group made a run was about a week before the barn incident and, according to Andrea, nothing has changed since I first found them there. We are officially the only living, breathing people for miles. The run was basically made to check on the town, however Shane found a few coolers that he brought back to the house "just incase" we needed them. We haven't needed them, but I guess it's nice to have them on hand.

"Nothin', but I think it's a good idea. Just to make sure we're still alone out here."

"But it's only been a week and a half," I respond, pushing the bangs out of my face. Although it's getting colder outside, going through Daddy's stockpile always makes me work up a sweat. My face is probably redder than a tomato.

Shane cracks his knuckles, "I'll go by myself. Just thought maybe you'd want to join me, is all."

I look at him, freshly showered and wearing the hell out of a pair of khaki pants and black t-shirt, before nodding.

"Yeah, okay. I'll go with you. Let me talk to Maggie about dinner first."

"Honey, Maggie lived on a farm bigger than yours. I'm sure she knows how to cook a chicken."

I toss a frozen bag of corn at him and it smacks him in the chest. He laughs as he catches it, ducking while I fake throw a bag of peas his way.

"Don't call me honey," I tell him, slamming the freezer door shut. I lead the way up the stairs, making sure to swing my hips more than I need to. Halfway up, I turn to face him. "Honey," I finish with a smile.

-x-

"Oh my...yes, please. Please, please, please. Right there. Yes!"

I could lie and say I don't know how we ended up here, my legs resting on Shane's shoulders, his head between them, tongue licking my juices like they're water and he's been thirsty for years. I could lie, but I won't.

It started with flirting in the car on the way to town. Simple words, the same ones we had been spewing at each other in our spare time. Nothing unusual, but the fact that we were alone was weighing heavily on my mind from the second we got in the Expedition until the second we stepped out of it.

When I got out of the SUV, I intended to head straight to Milly's and grab more tampons and condoms, just incase, just like last time. Instead, Shane whistled at me and shook his head, nodding in the direction of On Tap, the old bar owned by Uncle Joe, aka Joe MacEnder, aka Matt's dad. I looked at him with a crinkled forehead but said nothing, following him despite my better judgement.

The last thing I needed was to be reminded that I don't know where Matt is.

On Tap looked the same way it did back before I left for Alabama, minus the overweight and drunk "down with Obama" gun lovers. Dust still coated the top of the bar, only now it was due to not being used and not Uncle Joe being too lazy to wipe it down after last call. He hired me to do that.

I worked at On Tap once, when I was trying to save up money for college behind Daddy's back. It was before Daddy even knew I was thinking about going, before he told me "no" six million times before finally agreeing. I was only seventeen and it was illegal for me to be working at a bar, but in our part of Georgia nobody really paid attention to the law until it was knocking on their front door. Or, in Uncle Joe's case, nobody really paid attention to the law until a cop strolled in on a Wednesday evening and threatened to shut the place down because a minor was serving beer to fat men with critters in their scruff.

There was still a jukebox in the corner, but it was really more of a decoration considering the On Tap patrons usually made their own music with broken beer bottles and screaming matches. A pool table, one that I once used to annihilate a group of college boys who came through town on a road trip, could still be seen in the back room surrounded by bar stools and the old, ratty couch that I lost my virginity on.

Old Mary, the couch, was a living legend in Matt's family. It was named after his great great grandmother and came from her father's barn in Kentucky. Old Mary survived the generations and after Uncle Joe inherited her, Matt and our friend Jimmy were the ones who had the task of bringing her to the bar. When Jimmy passed out after inhaling a bottle and a half of Jack Daniels, well, Matt and I took advantage of being alone.

As if seeing the couch wasn't enough to make me think about my missing boyfriend, the photo of us behind the bar surely did the trick. It was the same photo I had in my dorm room, the one of Matt and I at the carnival last Fall. I had hidden it away after burying Mama, deciding that photos of what was before weren't going to do me any good in the new reality. Finding the photo of Daddy, Mama and myself when looking through Daddy's things only added fuel to that fire. But the photo of Matt and I, the one on the wall at On Tap, meant something not only to our relationship but to Uncle Joe. I remember the day he framed and hung it.

"My son and his future wife," he said proudly and loud enough for everyone within a mile to hear. "This one is special, you see, because one day, my Matthew is going to own this bar and Emma is going to be right there with him, by his side like a good woman should be."

I remember tucking myself under Matt's armpit, hiding my smiling face. Thinking about the future was never a strong suit, especially when it came to my future with Matt. I knew I would marry him, but I didn't want the hope to outweigh the reality of him actually proposing. It hadn't happened yet, but I was waiting.

And now, as I'm laying on the pool table with Shane's face between my legs, I can see the picture glaring at me out of the corner of my eye. It's a reminder of what was, of Matt missing. It's everything I don't need right now and the exact reason I've let my lust for Shane come full circle.

"Do it for me, baby," he says against my skin and goes back to licking and sucking. Within seconds, I crumble beneath the touch of his tongue and my trembling fingers reach for his head, pulling him up to meet my face so I can kiss away any thoughts of anything other than him.

The sound of glass breaking pulls me out of my post-orgasmic haze and Shane breaks away from me completely, turning his head in the direction of the noise: outside. Quickly, I pull up my panties and slip my legs through my jeans, jumping off of the pool table afterwards.

"I thought you said there wasn't anyone for miles," I say in a whisper. I grab the small gun Shane gave me before we left the house out of my back pocket and keep it in front of me, like I've been taught to do by both Shane and Glenn.

"There isn't," Shane grumbles. He takes the same stance I'm in, only he's actually brave enough to walk towards the front of the bar. The front windows of On Tap have always been covered in a special black paint that Uncle Joe found on sale at Home Depot; it allows for the people inside the bar to see outside the bar but makes it impossible for the people outside the bar to see what's going on inside. _Reverse psychology_, Uncle Joe would say. I glance out this window and see nothing.

"Probably a walker who made a wrong turn," he continues. "Stay behind me and don't shoot unless you need to."

I nod my head at him because no words are needed.

We exit On Tap slowly and cautiously. No harm has been done to the Expedition and that makes my nerves settle down a bit. I can handle a walker, but I'm not sure how well I can handle a stranger. Forty steps and a corner turn later, I spot the broken glass spilled on the sidewalk in front of Oink!, the mom and pop ice cream shop run by Mr. and Mrs. Camille. Shane makes a move to enter the store, but I grab his arm.

"The glass is on the outside. That means whoever broke it is on the inside."

Shane looks at me like I'm ridiculous. "_Obviously_," he stresses. If he hadn't given me such pleasure a few minutes ago I would be frustrated, but seeing as he just made me see stars I can look past this one. "I'm going to go inside and I need you to stay out here, by the window. Have my back."

Looking him in the eyes, I say, "Okay."

"Remember: don't shoot unless you absolutely need to. If you need me, call for me." He grabs the back of my neck and brings our lips together, kissing me slowly and deeply. "If I yell, leave me. Get in the car and go back to your house." I nod and he leaves, winking at me with a smile.

I watch him enter the back room of the shop through a door marked _piggies only!_ before turning to face the outside. My mind wanders to the barn incident and finding Daddy's notes and burying Mama and Tracy Adkins and faster than a baby can fart I'm breathing heavily, unable to catch my breath. I hear pitter-patters coming from my right, where there's a corner. Too afraid to move and still having trouble breathing, I put my finger on the trigger of my gun and wait for whatever is out here to come to me.

It does.

As soon as I hear the pitter-patters turn the corner, I face right and fire my gun directly into the chest of Matt. The gun drops from my grip as soon as I realize what I've done―right around the time Matt falls and lands on his back with a bounce.

"Oh my god!" I exclaim. "No!"

When Shane comes running out to see what's happened, he finds me on my knees pushing the hair out of Matt's eyes with tears cascading down my cheeks. I don't answer his questions, don't respond when he tells me how "fucking stupid" I am. Instead, I stay next to Matt, incapable of processing thoughts or emotions.

"Stop your damn crying," I hear Shane say. It doesn't register, but I hear it. "He's got a vest on, he's fine. Just got the wind knocked out of him."

I turn to look at Shane. He's the last thing I see before I, too, pass out.

-x-

When I wake up, I'm alone and in my room. I don't know what time or day it is, but there's no sun coming through my windows. Moonlight is the only light illuminating my space.

I sit up with a hand on my forehead, and when I move to stand up feel a crunch next to my ear. It's the photo of Matt and I, the one I had hidden away after burying Mama. Except this isn't my copy, because my copy didn't have any rips or tears and this one is full of them.

"You're up," Matt says from his cross legged position on my floor.

One glance at him and everything rushes back to me. I'm out again before I can blink.


End file.
